Want to Just Dance
by Cee-face
Summary: Wasn't that woman Italian, anyways? -America and England, crack, possibly OOC. T for freak-dancing.-


They had finally decided to call a break from the conference when, above the minor squabbles of the other nations around them, Poland opted to call out Russia on his subtle cruelty towards Lithuania throughout the meeting. It was unanimously (though silently) agreed that allowing the exchange to continue could prove perilous, and so the restless nations were dismissed for a fifteen-minute period.

England had barely made it out into the hallway when he felt a pressure on his backside, which was immediately answered with a swift turn and kick to a certain shin of a certain Frenchman. When he was certain that France was temporarily incapacitated from his lewd ways, England huffed and stalked down the hallway.

"Lecherous frog," growled the once-Empire before realizing that, though he was walking quite briskly, he had no destination in mind, just the aim to get away from the surrounding ruckus. Though after crossing another few feet, his intent became the loo, and he bitterly reflected on the poorly-made tea that had been served during the conference.

His hand was flat against the wood of the door to the men's restroom when he heard an unmistakable voice on the other side and considered holding it until he got home. _America._

Deciding that he was a bit more mature than that, England slowly pushed the door open and, sure enough, found America stationed at the facilities. The younger country appeared to not have heard him, though, and England scoffed upon noticing the bright white buds plugged into America's ears. Honestly, him and that ridiculous little thing.

It took England a second to register that America's voice was still going despite the fact that anyone could walk in, and…was he-- was he _singing?_

"_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick~ I wanna take a ride on your disco stick~!_" No, England concluded, America was not singing, because the sounds coming out of his mouth were not worthy of being called music, in any definition of the word.

The next part was hummed, followed by "_Let's play a love game, play a love game, do you want love or you want fame, hmm-hm_…~" Apparently America decided he had finished his business, as he had done up his pants and was now absently working his feet to what England assumed was the beat of the ridiculous song he was listening to.

Edging back towards the door, his former colony brought his arms to the party, and God, America could not dance worth shite. And that was even if those moves were his own; provided he was just emulating the singer, then clearly his people couldn't dance either. The island nation couldn't help but fleetingly wonder where, exactly, he had gone wrong with America's teachings.

"--_doin' the love game!_" Once he was finished washing his hands, America spun and locked his legs, his hand going to grasp his vital regions as he struck a pose, now fully facing England yet still totally oblivious, with his eyes closed behind those stupid glasses.

He really should have just opted to hold it.

England's brain had to slowly work itself back into commission to take control of his motor functions before he could close up his undignified gaping jaw. America held the pose for a moment before opening his eyes, and with a grin like he hadn't just been freak-dancing in the men's bathroom under the eyes of his once-mentor, he yanked the earbuds away from his head. "Hey, England!"

"What in the bloody hell was _that?_" …a loaded question, surely.

"Was what?" inquired the United States in that oh-so-intelligent manner of his, blinking simply at England.

"That…_that. _Whatever on Earth it was that you were just doing with your insult to the concept of music."

England could almost see America's brain straining with the effort to comprehend what the older nation was saying, and he saw his ex-territory's face light up when it finally came together like the red and green (or was it red and blue?) wires in his B-grade action movies. "Oh! Duh, that was Lady GaGa!" As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Geez, get with the times, old man, I know she's been over there to perform for your people before!"

The Empire scowled. "It would take up all of Northern Ireland for me to keep a list of all the 'musical' bollocks you send my way," he contended dryly.

"Psh, whatever, England~" America returned flippantly, punctuating the dismissal with a wave of his hand. "You know you love it."

"Certainly not," the island nation bit back with a roll of his eyes. Another sing-song "whatever" from America was his only answer before the young superpower took his leave from the restroom.

He didn't even feel like going anymore.

* * *

**A/N:** in the men's bathroom, i am so classy.

this, er, probably merits some explanation, derp. i was listening to Lady GaGa's "Just Dance" on the radio when i heard a guy go "Amazing -- music" in the background that sounded suspiciously like the random guy who says the same thing in America's Marukaite Chikyuu. after obsessively listening to both songs and comparing the two, i came to the conclusion that they were the same, and my suspicions were then confirmed by the Hetalia wiki -- the voice clips in America's MKC are, indeed, sampled from Just Dance.

thus, my conclusion was that America likes Lady GaGa.

i was going to use Just Dance in the fic, but i decided Love Game would be funnier and i couldn't resist America doing the crotch-grab from the end of the music video. i am sorry for the lame and the crack, but i hope someone out there enjoyed it!


End file.
